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Eight Rules That Apply toFixing Almost Anything. (He also calls it his One-Page Bible for Bike Mechanics.) He keeps it tacked to the Bike Barn wall. It’s rumply and all covered in grease spots. And it rarely fails me.
1. RIGHT IS TIGHT. True for nuts, bolts, and screws, with few exceptions.
2. USE PROPER TOOLS FOR THE JOB.
3. AN OUNCE OF MAINTENANCE IS WORTH A POUND OF REPAIRS.
4. RUST NEVER SLEEPS. Ask yourself where water might accumulate.
5. STUDY THE PROBLEM. Understand how something works before you try to figure out why it isn’t operating correctly.
6. TRY THE LEAST EXPENSIVE FIX FIRST. It’s often the solution.
7. TAKE NOTES ON COMPLICATED JOBS. Consider how the thing was assembled in the first place.
8. ONE REPAIR AT A TIME. Work on one problem at a time. Disassemble as little as possible.
     
    Reading the rules always reminds me that bikes are pretty simple machines—though that doesn’t mean fixing them is always a snap. Mr. Gilmartin had already directed me toward Rule Six—the least expensive fix. So, I went at it and I managed to work it out.
    When Vince came back with Angus and Eva, I couldn’t help crowing. “I took care of that Gilmartin job,” I told him. “And no new derailleur. I worked with what was there. Fixed his flat and his shifter cables, too. One more out the door,” I added.
    Vince gave me a nod. Not that impressed.
    It was a good afternoon. Nobody came to check in a bike during the heat of the day. So Vince and I worked steadily. Angus and Eva spent a while out back with Lil. Then they came in and stomped around the loft above the bike shop.
    Every so often I’d look up from the workbench and see a sweaty little face or hand appear at the Trap, as we called it. It was a basketball-size hole in the boards that we kept covered with an oldtoilet-seat lid on a hinge. The twins loved flipping it open, calling down to us, and dropping things through the hole. A handful of dandelions, three cherry tomatoes, and Angus’s left sneaker all rained down on my workbench that afternoon.
    Around four or five o’clock customers began to come for their bikes. This was the part I liked. A lot.
    “Oh, I’m so glad this place is here,” Mr. Chandra told me. He pressed a few extra bills into my hand and I thanked him.
    Old Mrs. Marrietta hiked in from the Post Road to pick up her cruiser. “One-stop shopping! I got my eggs, got my wheels. Enough walking for my old hips for today. Biking home will feel like flying! Thank you so much!”
    But Dad had warned me: You can’t please everyone.
    There I was proudly wheeling Mr. Gilmartin’s bike out of the shop for him. There he was changing into his biking shoes after probably a four-mile walk. He grinned when he saw his bike again.
    “Ahh…I sure have missed it,” he said.
    “Wish we could work faster,” I told him. “I think you’ll be set for a while longer. It’s going through its gears smoothly now. Your limit screws were off and your derailleur cage was bent. You’ve got new shifter cables, and I put a new inner tube on the front like we talked about. All in all, you still own a great bike.” I felt nervous about telling him the next part so I hesitated. “Look, I know that you declined, but I still recommend that new rear derailleur. This one is showing fatigue. The adjustments are temporary.”
    “Well, I know you tried to talk me into it,” he said with a doubtful sort of smile.
    “Right. Well you can always let us know if you change your mind.”
    “The Bike Barn always does good work,” he said. We never got tired of that compliment. I handed Mr. Gilmartin his itemized bill. He read the slip and immediately pulled his chin in. He gave me a sharp look. “Seems pretty steep,” he said.
    “Uh…well, parts have gone up,” I said. “But maybe I added wrong.” I reached for the tab totake a second look. But Mr. Gilmartin was still busy scrutinizing it.
    “Since when do shifter cables cost so much?” he wanted to know.
    Oh,